


Dramma Da Camera - An Intimate Play

by JuweWright



Series: Dramma Da Camera [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Hermione Granger, Banter, Bisexual Character, Cat, Demisexuality, Fluff, Fun, Geodramione, Library, Light Angst, Locked In, Malfoy Manor, Multi, Pansexual Character, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Podfic Available, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Potions, Romance, Triple Threat Triad, Trolls, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: Draco finds himself locked inside Malfoy Manor with two unlikely helpers as company. Extreme situations lead to the revelation of long-hidden feelings.





	1. A Malfoy With A Problem

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to I_was_BOTWP for beta-reading this ridiculous little story.
> 
> I have been told that as this combination is a very rare one, I might have been the one who coined a new ship-name. Welcome to Geodramione! Take a seat! Have some tea! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an mp3 I recorded for this chapter. If you are okay with my weird accent, feel free to listen to it:
> 
> [Chapter One](https://www.dropbox.com/s/4rzfjvvz7wjx1mj/Chapter_1.mp3?dl=0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A./N. I updated the first chapter, because it needed more George and Draco bickering. Chapter 2 will be published soon.

“ I’m making coffee and breakfast,” George decided, rolling out of bed in a very lazy and cat-like fashion.

He and Hermione had been woken by the sunlight streaming in through the large bedroom windows a bit more than an hour ago. After contemplating whether to get up, the couple had spent some time doing anything but. It had been Hermione’s growling stomach that had caused the remaining Weasley twin to finally move. Some instinct from the bronze-age implied that a hungry woman had to be fed. Also, years of living with Hermione and experience with how terrifying she could be when she was hungry might have also played a role in ushering him into action.

He strolled through the flat in a nonchalant manner that spoke of the many mornings he had already spent here. Two cats – huge red beasts, but not as huge as Crookshanks had been – crossed his path and demanded to be served their meal. George managed to navigate his way into the kitchen without falling over either of the adamant toms. He filled the kettle and switched it on. Hermione lived in a very Muggle way, but he had gotten used to some of the technical features and found a few of them quite useful.

“ All right, you ungrateful bastards” he murmured and waved his wand. The fridge opened on its own and a tin can levitated slowly into the air. A spoon flew over from the drying rack next to the sink and started spooning some cat food into the beasts’ bowls on the floor.

George strode over to the fridge, lifted his arm to get the eggs from the upper shelf and frowned. He smelled as if he had been running a half marathon. A morning with Hermione did that to you. Disgusted, he decided to take a quick detour to the shower and spelled the pan and the eggs to make food happen in his absence.

When he came back the kitchen didn’t smell of burnt egg yet. He congratulated himself on not making the same mistake twice – he had decided to sing the whole “Bog down in the valley-o” song the last time he had showered while baking eggs, and it had taken much longer than he had assumed it would. He prepared two plates with flawlessly scrambled eggs. Hermione’s toaster was a lovely retro model that only knew the two levels “white and fluffy” and “black and dusty”, so he put some slices of toast into the oven instead.

He was just about to call Hermione to tell her breakfast was ready when the phone rang.

Hermione’s phone was a special device. From the outside it looked perfectly ordinary but she had come up with a neat little spell that hooked it up to the floo network. As her flat did not have a fireplace, she had had to come up with a solution for wizards wanting to call her. She had once tried to explain the whole procedure to George, but the explanation had involved way too many Muggle terms such as broadband, landline, and platines; he had just stared at her in admiration. It was still unbelievable that this amazing, clever, wonderful witch was his girlfriend. Even after two years the feeling of constant surprise was still there. George could almost see his brother giving him a wink and a thumbs up.  _ Well done for securing the brightest witch of our age after our ickle idiot brother made a right meal of it. _

George took the phone from its stand and pressed the green button before holding it to his ear.

“ Granger household here” he declared.

“ Get Granger on the phone!”

George frowned. He knew that voice. The posh accent, the arrogant tone: Draco Malfoy. Calling Hermione. On a Saturday morning. Sounding a little bit panicky. This could be interesting.

“ Malfoy, old chap!” he greeted the Slytherin, and leaned against the wall next to the fridge. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Can’t say I missed it. So how are you? Oh wait, I think I don’t actually care...”

“ Get. Hermione. On. The. Bloody. Phone. Weasley!”

The man sounded urgent. The panic in his voice intensified. So something was up and it had to be quite a big something if it made Draco call his co-worker on the weekend.

“ If I get her on the phone – which is totally clean and not bloody at all just so you know – what do I tell her as to why you are calling at such an ungodly hour?”

“ It’s eleven in the morning.” Draco informed him grumpily. “That isn’t ungodly. Not even to you. Not even if you…” he hesitated, then made a noise that could have been anything from a snort of disgust to a muffled sigh. “Oh no, now you gave me ideas. I have a problem. I need Granger’s help. So get her on the phone. Now!”

George’s smile widened. He scratched his stubble. 

“Ohhh, a Malfoy with a problem. That’s just how we like them. Actually there’s a direct relation between the size of the problem a Malfoy has and how likeable they are. What happened?”

Hermione had shown up in the door frame and looked at him with a questioning gaze. He grinned and pressed the loudspeaker button so she could follow the conversation.

“ Not your bloody business, Weasley” Draco spat.

“ Yes my bloody business, because unless you tell me I am not getting Hermione on the phone.”

He could almost see the other man clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. Hermione grinned.

“ I am in the Manor. I can’t get out. I can’t open the doors, I can’t floo – I am surprised that calling you even worked, but it feels weird. A bit as if my head is being squeezed through a very narrow opening.. I can open the windows but there’s invisible barriers in front of them. And there’s trolls in my basement. I haven’t counted but I’d assume three or four. They haven’t found the door yet, because they aren’t the brightest creatures. Based on the noise, they have wrecked some of my best wine barrels, and they can only tear down so many walls before the whole building collapses.””

George’s eyebrow went up. That was a brilliant prank. Whoever had devised it needed to get a box of free chocolates from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“ Wow” he admitted. “But why Hermione? I mean, don’t you have actual friends, Malfoy? Friends that might rush to your rescue in case of what sounds to me very much like an emergency?”

Draco made a sound that reminded George of a snake’s hiss.

“ One of my so-called friends is currently ‘consoling’ my soon-to-be ex-wife” he admitted. “Astoria’s the one who did this. She’s angry that I will get to keep the house, so she decided to lock me in it. Her exact words were that if I loved the stupid manor-hole so much, I’d probably not mind being in it the whole time. She also called me a cock. I think you - as the master of bad punning - should get the picture.”

George had to suppress a fit of laughter. Hermione couldn’t. She quickly grabbed a pillow from the couch to muffle hers, but George could see the tears well up in her bright, bemused eyes..

“That sounds terrible,” George said with mock empathy. “I didn’t even know Astoria had this in her. If she ever needs a job, tell her she’s welcome to apply at the shop,” he added. “So who is her new sweetheart? Theo or Blaise?”

“Theo,” Draco responded with ire in his voice. “The bloody asshole. And it’s been going on for quite a while before the breakup, from what I could gather from the house elves. So he’s obviously out when it comes to helping me here. Crabbe and Goyle might be good friends, but neither you nor I believe they’d be much help with this situation, do we? Anything that surpasses my intellect is way beyond theirs.”

“Blaise? Pansy?”

“I’d have to kill both Blaise and Pansy if I told them about this or they’d make fun of me for the rest of our lives.”

Hermione raised a brow, pointing at herself and then at George.

“Malfoy, just for your interest: You just told me about this! What do you think I will do with this information?”

“Well… I don’t really mind killing you, Weasley, because we’ve never been friends. But Blaise, Pansy and I, we go back… I would feel bad about having to murder them. So. Are you getting Hermione on the phone or what? I need someone with brain-power in this, because none of the ideas I came up with has worked, and she’s the only person I know who is admittedly smarter than me.”   
  


George covered the phone with his hand and mouthed: “Merlin’s pants he’s so full of himself, isn’t he?”

Hermione nodded and shrugged. She had been working alongside Malfoy for five years now. She was used to the man believing himself to be better than anyone else in the room - the building - the country - the world - the universe.

She reached out her hand and George passed on the phone.

“We’re on our way” she said and - before Malfoy could protest - added: “George’s coming along. More man- and brainpower can’t hurt after all.”

She hung up and turned around, putting her hands around George’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Let’s have breakfast” she said. “Obviously, Draco’s not going anywhere right now and I can’t think properly when I am hungry.”


	2. Locked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an mp3 I recorded for this chapter. If you are okay with my weird accent, feel free to listen to it:  
> [Chapter 2](https://www.dropbox.com/s/zm1q8b2c338q6oi/Chapter_2.mp3?dl=0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A./N.: Thank you I_was_BOTWP for being my absolutely fabulous beta-Reader for this Story!

They Apparated to the Manor from a remote spot in the park next to Hermione’s house and found themselves at the front gate to the Malfoy Estate just seconds later. Hermione swayed on her feet and George wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her..

“I think it’s adorable how you still get queasy from Apparition” he murmured in her ear.

She sighed and pouted.

  
“Well, not everybody can be like Fred and you who just started Apparating around the house as soon as you passed the test.”

George smiled in fond memory of his brother.

“Mum was so furious. She kept telling us we scared her witless by appearing out of thin air all the time.”

“I think it wasn’t as much the ‘appearing’ but the fact that you did it with as much noise as possible. You are a very noisy Apparator, as was Fred. It could be quite unnerving when you weren’t prepared for it.”

“Like that time you were brushing your teeth?” George smiled, nudging her gently in the side.

“You almost killed me!” 

She tried to look furious, but her eyes kept smiling and he pulled her against his chest hugging her tightly.

“Nobody told you to shove your toothbrush down your throat. You did that on your own. And I saved your life.”

“You didn’t. You both laughed your heads off while I choked on toothpaste.”

“We would both have saved your life though, if you had really been in danger of toothbrushing yourself to death. Fred loved you just as much as I do - except in a very brotherly fashion, that is.”

They turned towards the Manor and Hermione shuddered.

“This is never going to feel okay” she stated, shook her head and then started walking up the path with a determined look on her face.

The Malfoy Estate had changed quite a bit since Draco was its official owner. A lot of thought had gone into whether the house would be taken from the family, but nobody really wanted to take care of all the paperwork that would have been necessary to dispossess the Malfoys, so instead they had just banned the family from entering the grounds for five years. Lucius and Narcissa lived in America these days and so, Draco had walked back into the Manor on his own. The surrounding gardens were less gloomy than they had been. Flower beds and fountains had taken the place of hedges and dark bushy trees.

The Manor itself hadn’t changed much from the outside, but Hermione had been in the house a couple of times already and found it had no resemblance to the place she occasionally revisited in her nightmares. Grey stone walls were covered  in various, lightly colored,  wallpaper now. Tiled floors were strewn with plush oriental rugs. Windows had been widened on the inside - Hermione assumed Draco had used something similar to the undetectable extension charm on them to achieve the effect - and some of the gloomier fireplaces had been exchanged for newer models.

All in all, the place was very modern, light, and tidy. However, the latter point kept it from feeling like a home. Malfoy Manor always reminded Hermione of the Stately Homes she had visited with her parents. Places that had once been a home but now were only a museum, every book in place, every rug spotlessly clean, dust and quiet where there used to be the chaos and noise that came with people inhabiting a space. It also reminded her of the modern show houses they had looked at prior to moving into their home when she was ten years old. 

She wondered whether anything had changed since the last time she had paid Draco a visit. Back then, Astoria had still been the lady of the house. Would Draco also live in this place without leaving any trace? She walked up the stairs to the front door and used the gaudy silver snake door knocker that some delusional wizard-ancestor of Draco’s had installed.

Two seconds later she heard Draco’s voice from inside. So he had already been waiting for them, pacing the hallway like a wild animal.

“Granger?”

“The very same.”

“Merlin’s beard, you took your time, didn’t you? I can’t open the door from the inside. Can you check if it opens from out there?”

Hermione nodded and pulled at the doorknob. The gate swung open, revealing a hallway with white marble floor and a slightly dishevelled looking man with light blonde hair who was wearing suit trousers and a button down shirt. Hermione wondered whether Draco owned any attire that wasn’t at least semi-formal.

He smiled when he saw her in the doorway.

“Glad you could come” he said. “But please don’t…”

Hermione and George had stepped over the threshold without hesitation. Right at that moment, the witch realized they might have made a terrible mistake. A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and slammed the door shut. George pulled his head down between his shoulders and then slowly turned around.

“Please tell me this is not what I think…”

He turned back to the door and pulled on the handle. Nothing happened.

“I was just about to tell you to please not cross the threshold” Draco said apologetically. “I wasn’t entirely sure what Astoria had done to secure the place, but I guess it’s much easier to just lock it up generally instead of aiming the spell specifically at me.”

He sighed and pushed his hair back. He looked rather pale and more than a little exhausted.

“She’s so going to regret this.”

“At least you don’t threaten anyone with your dad anymore” George stated. 

Hermione was frozen in place and stared at the door like a panicked rabbit. Then she ran to the door and started tugging on the handle. The door didn’t budge.

  
“We’re locked in” she finally managed to squeak. “We’re locked into the Manor and we can’t get out.”

Both men realized what was happening at the same time. George was standing closer to her and was quicker to wrap his arms around her, which left Draco standing in the hallway in a weird position - arms half-open, his feet parted in a stride, ready to run towards her. He quickly composed himself again and motioned for George to follow him. As they entered the drawing room, the floor under their feet seemed to vibrate.

“Oh, the trolls” Hermione said, suddenly herself again. 

“ _ Give that girl something to do and she’ll overcome trauma in a minute _ ,” George thought. “ _ Or at least postpone her breakdown to some later, more appropriate moment _ .”

Draco nodded solemnly. “Yes. Trolls. Several. And they are drunk now. Drunk. From the best wine in the Malfoy collection, and they are way too dumb to actually care how much that stuff is worth.”

He kicked a chair with his shining leather shoe, and cursed when he hurt his toes in the process. Then he picked up his wand from the coffee table.

“They were too many for me to handle on my own, but I think with the help of you two…” he suggested.

George grinned. “Lead the way, Malfoy. I’m going to keep this memory safe. I will tell it to my grandchildren someday. ‘The time when I helped the biggest Hogwarts bully that ever existed to get rid of his troll problem’. I can already feel it’s going to be one of these stories the little ones will want to hear over and over again.”

Draco sighed again, but it was only half-hearted. He actually liked George, even though he’d never admit it. The twins had been a refreshing kind of reckless in their school years and he admired the creativity that went into the development at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. 

He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. The prospect of a fight had turned her into the fierce warrior again that she had been in their sixth and seventh year. Nowadays she was usually very composed, very calm, but as soon as a challenge came up, she just fell back into her role. Draco had only caught a glance of her injuries and scars seldomly, not the injuries and scars that had been superficial and had healed over time, but the ones that the war had left on her soul. She didn’t like people to see she was vulnerable and he knew she already regretted the brief moment in the hallway when she had panicked over being locked in. He realized that what she was doing here was much more than just a favour. She hated the Manor, still hated it after all these years. She didn’t hate him, which was more than he could ever have bargained for. After all, he had been standing right there and had done nothing whatsoever to stop his aunt from torturing the girl. He hadn’t forgotten. He still saw her fearful, teary eyes in his dreams. He still heard her screams. And he hated his younger self for being a coward, for letting it happen. He marvelled at how she could forgive him and knew he never would forgive himself.


	3. Trolls and Tocayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link to the mp3: [Chapter 3](https://www.dropbox.com/s/3yuvnufx2o6v91j/Chapter_3.mp3?dl=0)

“Man, these guys are loud,” George noted as they walked down the servants’ staircase into the kitchen. 

What had sounded like a minor earthquake from upstairs became much louder the closer they moved to the source. They could also make out individual noises now. The loudest were grunts, heavy shuffling feet, and the sound of a wooden barrel rolling over stone floor and then hopping down a flight of stairs. Next came the sound of wood breaking,somebody walking through a puddle, splashing the liquid like a happy child, heavy gulps, and a burp of unheard-of dimensions.

“Wow!” George grinned. “That was impressive.”

Draco and Hermione turned around, the look on their faces was exactly the same: A mild disgust that was expressed by lips pressed together and a wrinkled nose. George grinned even wider and wished he had a camera to take a picture. They looked adorable. Both of them. He checked his own thoughts and shook his head slightly.  _ Not even knocked on the head by a troll yet and you are already getting delusional. Thinking of Malfoy as adorable is definitely a new low.  _

The Malfoy kitchen was one of the few parts of the Manor that Draco had not cared to refurbish. It was a place of practicality, and rugs on the floor or tapestries on the wall weren’t necessary. The only thing he had changed was the lighting. His parents had never cared much about house elves. Neither did Draco, actually - unless you counted caring about the fact that Astoria had taken all of them with her when she left. But he cared about Hermione Granger’s opinion - more than he would ever have admitted to anyone including himself - and what harm did it do to enchant the ceiling so it looked like the sky above the manor? He was quite proud of this enchantment and beamed when he noticed Hermione’s glance upwards and the surprised interest in her eyes. Just when she was about to ask him about it, something banged against the heavy wooden door that seperated the kitchen from the cellar.

“I think they found the door” George said, readying his wand. “Do we go in, or do we wait until they come out?”

“I’d rather not have to replace that door” Draco said calmly, then flicked his wand, shouting: “ALOHOMORA”

The heavy bolt slid back and the door flew open with a bang as the huge troll that had been throwing its full weight against it tumbled into the kitchen. It looked confused. But trolls generally didn’t look very bright.

Draco felt the hairs on his left arm rise as a curse flew past him and hit the massive creature right below its knee. For a second he admired Hermione’s precision when using silent enchantments. The troll gave off a screech and toppled over, his momentum interrupted. Draco and George exchanged a glance and simultaneously went for a shackling charm. Silver ropes appeared, firmly twisted around and around the troll's wrists and ankles, tightening with every turn. The creature growled and tried to push against the bonds, but they didn’t budge an inch.

“One down, two or three to go” George noted and made his way through the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Draco had already expected some havoc, but the sight still caught him unprepared. Almost half of the wine-barrels had been smashed, their contents mostly spilled onto the floor, where dark red pools now formed. The odour of wine was heavy in the cool air, as was the stink of the trolls. One of them had managed to break one of the beams which supported the ceiling in two and was now grunting loudly as it tried to pull the lower half out of the stone floor. Another one was clearly drunk, harrumphing and howling, it swung a heavy club over its head and seemed to consider which barrel to go for next. 

“Oh no, you bastard. Not the Tocayer!” Draco shouted and fired an Expelliarmus at the creature. The club dropped from its hand and onto its foot. It howled in agony, then turned around to face its attacker. It didn’t look happy. Then it charged.

A charging troll can be unexpectedly swift. Draco wanted to get out of the way, but found himself cornered between a huge wooden shelf and a stone wall. Damn. Next time he provoked a troll, he’d better check he had an exit route. If there would be a next time. “Shit!” he exclaimed.

Hermione was fighting troll number four, the heaviest and tallest of the visitors. This one had been the culprit behind the noise they had heard earlier as it was playing a merry game of “Roll the Barrel” down the stairs to the lower cellar. It had proven quite resistant to several spells and Hermione had just taken two steps back to reconsider her strategy when she heard Draco’s shout. It took her a second to evaluate the situation and another second to turn on her heel and fire the first spell that came to mind towards the approaching troll.

“Stupor!” Hermione shouted. The troll grunted, then keeled over and landed face forward in the dust. It wasn’t completely knocked out, but the alcohol had made it a little sluggish. Draco decided it was okay to breathe again and conjured up another tight silver rope for his attacker.

“Draco! I need a distraction here!” Hermione cried. 

Without hesitation, he waved his wand at her troll and conjured up a bunch of bats that started flapping around its head. The creature gave off a howl and started to wave its heavy hands against the tiny animals. Hermione’s next hex caught it right below the chin and it fell like a stone, splashing wine-droplets everywhere including all over Hermione. 

“Thank you!” the witch shouted. 

At the same time, George had been taking care of the individual that had been pulling on the wooden beam. It was sturdy and quicker than the others had been, as it had mainly focussed on wrecking the place and not indulged in the Malfoy wine collection quite as much. He was just about to conjure up some ropes for it, when it finally managed to yank the beam free and swung it around, aiming at the red haired man. George tried to hop back, but was just that quarter of a second too slow. The scene went black.

“George!” Hermione screeched as she saw her boyfriend fall. 

Draco’s head flew around, following her gaze. 

“Ah, fuck” he stated and followed two steps behind her..

“Stupor!” he shouted, just as Hermione also waved her wand in a silent spell.

The heavy wooden beam lifted out of the troll’s hands, flew towards the ceiling and crashed back down, right on top of the troll’s head, knocking it out point blank.

“I never thought I’d say that, but that’s a move I learnt from Ron!” she explained, then kneeled down next to George. Draco bent over her shoulder.

_ I hope the Weasel isn’t badly hurt. Would be my fault if he was. Looks very pale. Those freckles come out much more than they usually do. And oh God there’s blood. Lots of blood. Damn. _

“He’s breathing” Hermione said after a few excruciating seconds. “Nasty gash on his brow, but I guess he’s not even got a concussion. The forehead is the strongest bone on the human skull.”

She turned around and frowned.

“Draco Malfoy, is it possible that you get queasy from the sight of blood?”

Draco shrugged and gulped.

“A… a little” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting him out of here and will stop the bleeding. You take care of that troll. And bring some wine if there’s any barrel still untouched. We need to celebrate our first victory of the day. And make plans.”

“Plans?” Draco asked sheepishly, still staring at the gaping wound on George’s forehead.

“How to get out of this house”, Hermione specified. “And stop looking at the wound immediately! I can see that you’re going to be sick if you keep looking and I think I won’t be able to handle you being sick on top of my boyfriend being unconscious.”

As she levitated George’s unconscious form up the stairs and into the drawing room she once again thanked destiny for the invention of magic. George wasn’t heavily built, but he was much taller than her and she would never have been able to physically carry him. It would also be much easier to clean up the path of blood-droplets they left behind on their way with a simple Tergeo spell than it would have been to scrub them off.

“Oye” George stated as he woke up when she let his body fall onto the spotlessly clean white sofa. “What happened?”

“You got hit around the head by a troll. So quick. What’s your twin’s name? Who was your crush in third year? What’s your favourite colour? What’s the food you despise most? Where are we?”

George frowned for a second, then responded in quick succession, counting on his fingers: “Fred. Katie Bell, because she was fit and my eyes had not been opened to your fabulousness. Green. Spinach (even though it’s green). Locked into Malfoy Manor. Am I officially diagnosed as non-concussed now?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that sticky stuff on my eye?”

“Blood.”

“Ugh. Lovely. I’m bleeding on Draco Malfoy’s furniture” he turned his head to see exactly what he was lying on. “Bleeding on Draco Malfoy’s white sofa. That’s almost sexy…”

“You, George, have a very strange mind sometimes. And now shut up. I need to stitch this up before the sofa  has more of your blood on it than you have in you.”

“You know that that’s a paradox, don’t you?”

“Shut up, or I’ll hex you unconscious again.”

“I love you too, Hermione.”

She set to work with quick precision. The hands-on-training with Madam Pomfrey she had done a few years ago had paid off quite a few times already.  After she had witnessed too many aurors being completely unable to handle medical cases on-site, she had asked around if anyone wanted to join her and organized a weekend-course with the Hogwarts nurse. Since then, there had been just as many injuries but far less trips to the hospital for the squad. 

After she had cleaned the wound and enchanted a needle and some medical string to sew it shut - a process that received an avalanche of swear words from George’s mouth some of which she had never heard before - she decided to check on Draco. On the way, she spoke a few cleaning charms and removed the blood-droplets. She’d never have expected Malfoy to be such a weakling when it came to blood and wondered whether he also was an arachnophobe or something equally ridiculous. In a way it was cute to see there was more to him than the clever yet arrogant auror, that he had a soft side she hadn’t seen before.

She found him as he finished building a troll-pile in the cellar. The four intruders had been stacked neatly one on top of the other, and looked very much in discomfort over this treatment. 

“Thought I’d organize them a bit” he grinned. “I also might have accidentally banged their heads against the walls in my attempt to stack them. How’s George?”

“Awake. Not concussed. Talking too much. Having weird thoughts about bleeding onto your stuff. - No worries, I cleaned everything already.”

She waved her wand and repaired the broken beam in a blink. Draco stared at her, clearly impressed. 

“Care to choose the wine?” he enquired.

When they came back into the drawing room with a bottle of Tocayer and three glasses, George was sitting up on the sofa and leafing through a magazine about interior design that had been lying on the coffee table. For a second Draco thought he could get used to the red haired man lounging on his sofa reading his magazines. Hermione set down the wine glasses. Draco uncorked the bottle and filled the glasses half-way. The woman relaxed into one of the plushy armchairs and raised her glass.

“To beating the trolls together.”

George and Draco grinned and raised theirs as well.

“To beating the trolls.”


	4. Books and Brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the weather is just too hot to live, I am a bit slow on finishing this story at the moment. But I recorded the [mp3](https://www.dropbox.com/s/7fps325tyoyjh9l/Chapter_4.mp3?dl=0) for this chapter now.

“We need a battle plan!” Draco announced after they had finished their wine. 

“We need to do some research.” Hermione nodded. “We need to find out what spell Astoria used, and how we can get rid of it.”

“I tried a few things already,” Draco said, conjuring up a quill and parchment to scribble down a few notes. “I tried the usual unlocking spells, I tried to break it with sheer force, I even used my very limited knowledge of ancient runes to break it. But Astoria’s not an idiot. She knows my strengths, as well as my weaknesses, and she probably planned this thoroughly. Breaking the spell will need some work.”

George and Hermione nodded in accordance.

“You’re the ones who are into that whole ‘If in doubt, go to the library’ stuff,” George said. “I am pretty good at combining the research to an actual plan and in carrying out the hands-on execution of it. But how about you do some research and I do some cooking? I mean, just because we’re locked in doesn’t mean we have to starve.”

Draco looked at Hermione. The witch smiled and shrugged.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “George really has a knack for cooking.”

She leaned over to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek. Her left hand brushed through the slightly-too-long red hair. Draco looked away uncomfortably when he noticed how deeply the couple looked into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t unspoken words exchanged between them, it was unspoken novellas. And he suddenly felt very alone and longed to be somewhere else where he did not have to witness this open display of love. Somewhere where he could scold himself for feeling a pang of jealousy - two pangs of jealousy, if he was really honest with himself - for what they had. 

Hermione drew away from George, giving him another kiss and a smile.

“The store-room is below the wine cellar - you know, where that one idiot troll threw the barrells down the stairs. Feel free to get creative with whatever there’s available!” Draco explained and George nodded his thanks.

Five minutes later, Draco threw open the heavy double doors to the library. He felt satisfied to hear Hermione’s excited gasp when she took in the dimensions of the room. 

“This is… this is amazing!” she exclaimed happily and ran past him. Standing in the middle of the room on the thick red carpet, she turned around her own axis, her eyes widening at shelves upon shelves that were crammed full with heavy volumes. 

The library was spread across two levels. There was a lower level, where they had entered, and there was a balcony about three meters above their heads that circled the whole room and gave access to another set of shelves. The floor was white marble but had been covered with red carpet on the main walkways. There were several reading-nooks strewn around the place with comfortable arm-chairs made from the same dark wood as the shelves, little desks, and Art Nouveau reading lamps.

“It’s a mess,” Draco explained, trying to hide how giddy it made him to have made Hermione happy. “It used to be properly catalogued about a hundred years ago. But ever since, nobody gave enough of a toss to return the books to the proper place, so now it’s a shambles. I had two house elves working on reorganizing it, but as Astoria seems to have decided that all of the elves are hers now - which I doubt, because they were bought with Malfoy money - I don’t know how far they got. Let’s just hope they made good progress before they were snatched away.”

A dark grey chartreux cat appeared on one of the balcony rails and elegantly hopped down the staircase to greet the visitors. It purred loudly when Draco picked it up to ruffe its fur.

“This is Bernard,” he introduced the pet to his co-worker, holding the animal so it faced Hermione. “Bernard, this is Hermione. She likes libraries just as much as you do and she’s not only beautiful but also the smartest woman I know on this planet, so be nice to her.”

He blushed a little as he realized what he had just said. Hermione’s face showed a mixture of surprise and confusion. She petted Bernard’s head, noting how much softer his fur was in comparison to her own tomcats‘. The animal closed its eyes and licked her fingertips.

“Do you really think that?” she enquired looking up at Draco.

“Well, hell yeah. You’re smart, you’re like the cleverest witch in all of England. Even a blind man can see that. And there’s no sense in denying perfectly well-known facts.”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t mean that. I mean… do you really think I am beautiful?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, hoping she didn’t notice that part of him was contemplating just dropping the cat, to run away and hide.

“Umm… yes, I do. Did you think only Weasleys can see that? It’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes.”

_ Stop looking at me like this, witch. If you knew how long it has been obvious to me, you’d be even more surprised. _

Before she could say anything else, he had handed her Bernard, who was warm and soft, and snuggled against her chest immediately, then walked over to a bureau in the corner, pulling open one of the drawers and producing a heavy file folder.

“This is the catalogue,” he said. “I guess it might help us find the section we need. We’re not dealing with anything potion-based here, so we can leave that part of the room out. We have a whole section about history of magic and history of the bloody family upstairs, and I am quite glad we won’t need to peruse that either, because my dad made me read shit about my ancestors every time I did something stupid as a child. It’s the perfect punishment, because the Malfoys might have been decent wizards, but they were atrociously bad writers. So, I think we can leave herbs and magical creatures out as well. Charms and Curses. Here we go. That’s sections B, C and G. B and C are down here, G is upstairs. Wanna start down here and I’ll start in section G? We’ll be quicker if we work on two sections in parallel.”

Half an hour later, Hermione was leafing through “The Curse of the House of Usher - Hexed Families and Haunted Homes” while Bernard was lounging on a pile of tomes she had already stacked on one of the reading tables. The book tower was leaning at a precarious angle, but the tomcat didn’t seem to mind the danger of it toppling over, taking him with it on the way.

Hermione stopped to take a look at a promising chapter (“The curse of Florentine Abraham - A life locked in”) and noted down a few spells and counter-enchantments she’d have to look up later. When she lifted her eyes off the parchment, she saw Draco pull up a ladder to one of the shelves in section G to get his hands on a huge volume of a book that was almost three span high and two span thick. She wondered again why he had called her for help instead of one of his other friends. She didn’t buy the explanation he had given earlier on. 

He had said he thought she was beautiful. And even though she’d never really consciously thought of it before, she had to admit that she found him quite handsome. She watched as the muscles under his white shirt moved when he lifted the book and made his way back down the ladder, before frowning at her own admiration. This was Draco! The same Draco whom she worked with on a day-to-day basis! She had seen him shirtless more than once in their career and yet her nerves had never begun fluttering over the sight.

Years of working with Draco had revealed that he had impeccable manners when he wasn’t acting the bully. He was considerate and nice; he even regularly brought her coffee when she was up to her neck in case-work. They had fought more than one battle together and become a decent team. Yes, even though she’d never actually used the word when referring to Draco, she’d started to consider him a friend - a fact that would have Ron foaming at the mouth if he ever got word of it. 

“Like what you see?”

Draco had noticed her stare and grinned down from the balcony with a bemused look on his face.

Hermione blushed and shrugged but was saved by the ruckus caused when the cat, hearing his master’s voice, lifted its head, shifted its weight a little and brought down the book tower. Bernard gave off an affronted miow and sprinted up the staircase to hop into Draco’s arms. The man patted the grey tomcat. He was still smiling.

“Got anything useful yet?” he enquired.

Hermione regarded the mess of books around her.

“There seem to be at least a hundred different ways to seal someone into a house. We’ll have to go with trial and error, I believe.”   


“We can also exclude anything that is written in any language but English” Draco added. “Astoria’s a snob when it comes to foreign texts, cultures, foods… anything really.”   


Hermione nodded and crossed out three spells on her list that she had found in German, French, and Latin texts. She looked down the shelf.

“I’m not done yet though, I’ll need at least another hour to finish down here.”   


Draco sat the cat down and picked up his own stack of notes.

“I’m coming down to help you. I’m done up here.”

Carrying the huge book in one and the pile of parchment in the other hand, he came down the stairs and sat both of them down on one of the still empty reading tables. Bernard followed him at a graceful stroll along the handrail.

“So, how far have you come?” Draco asked, scanning the shelves.

Hermione pointed to the middle of section C. Draco nodded.

“All right,” he said, pushing up his shirtsleeves as if readying himself to do some proper hands-on work. “Let’s get this over with in half an hour so we can have dinner early. I’m starving.”

“ _ She was watching me,”  _ he thought.  _ “And she blushed when I caught her.” _

A small part of him wanted to replay that moment in his head again and again, but there was work to do. Hermione started working from one end and Draco from the other, pulling out promising books, leafing through them, making notes of anything of interest. They progressed quickly until they finally both reached out for the same book at the same time. Their hands touched and both of them pulled back as if electrified. 

“I… I am sorry,”  Hermione managed to squeak.

Why was her heart pounding like mad? And why was Draco fixing her with his gaze? His grey eyes seemed to pierce her skin and go right in for her soul.

She smelled like bergamot and green tea. He would have been able to find her anywhere just by her smell. And she was so damn close. He was pretty sure he’d regret what he was about to do, but his brain wasn’t really in charge of his actions any more. Draco smiled and put his hand back on hers, touching her fingers lightly. When she didn’t pull back, he leaned a little closer. She still didn’t move. Her breathing quickened.

_ Pull back, Malfoy! Pull back now you idiot! She’s out of bonds. Pull back! _

With a sheer endless amount of willpower, he managed to pull away. His hand slid off hers and he quickly walked down to where he had left the other books and his notes.

“Let’s go and get some dinner!” he said hoarsely.

A small voice inside his head began to recapitulate the last moments and he realized that the young witch had not made any effort to escape. Instead, right when he had moved away, her chin had lifted just ever so slightly, as if she was inviting the kiss that never came. And the look on her face when she had opened her eyes - opened her eyes! which she had closed before! - had been somewhere between confused and hurt. 

Hermione packed her neatly written notes together as well and walked quickly out the double doors and down the hallway. She didn’t turn around to see whether Draco was following her. She couldn’t bare to look at him. Her heart was still beating way too fast and she didn’t understand her own mind. Why was she feeling rejected? She should be relieved that Draco had not used her temporary insanity to make a move on her. Yet, why did she still feel the touch of his hand on hers and why was part of her longing for his slender fingers to touch her hair, her face, her body? 

The sound of something that sounded very much like an explosion downstairs made her come to her senses. 

“George?” she cried out, breaking into a run.

“Dammit Weasley, I’m going to kill you if you wrecked anything of value!” she heard Draco curse as he sprinted past her.

 

George swore loudly at the mess in the kitchen. Everything had been going smoothly up to the end. The Malfoy store room was paradise for any cook. There had been a pheasant hanging off a hook and George had decided that as he had never made pheasant, but was pretty sure it must taste like chicken or turkey or a bit of both, to prepare some “Pheasant a l‘Orange”. He had also made pudding and half froze it with a mild  _ Glacius _ . Finally, he had prepared mashed potatoes with a spell that Hermione had taught him. And that’s where he had made a mistake. At least that was what he suspected when the lid came flying off the pot, banged against the enchanted ceiling and let the light yellow mash fly everywhere.

Draco appeared in the doorway in less than a minute. He panted a little, but at the pace he had run, the average man would have been unable to speak or even shout, but Draco was an auror, he was in the best shape he had ever been in and he was furious.

“What the blazes are you doing, Weasel?”

He looked around, took in the scene - mashed potato everywhere, but apart from that no broken furniture, nothing burnt or laying broken on the floor - and let his shoulders sag. His eyes wandered over George, whose shirtfront, hair and face were covered in mashed potatoes, and couldn’t suppress a giggle.

“Man, you look utterly ridiculous.”

Hermione came flying through the door. It took her about five seconds to evaluate the situation, then she started giggling as well.

“You used the pressure cooker spell without putting a double  _ Colloportus  _ onto the lid, didn’t you?”

George shrugged.

“Might have only done a single  _ Colloportus _ .”

He waved his wand and cleaned up the stains on his shirt.  Hermione did the same to his hair and he got rid of the stuff on his face by rinsing it over the sink.

“All right, lady and gentleman… I think we’ll have low carb dinner then. I have veggies and pheasant in the oven and the pudding is sitting over there.”

Draco stared at the pudding. It looked quite impressive. 

“Half frozen strawberry pie with vanilla ice and chocolate sauce. It’s sweet as hell, but Hermione loves it.”

He leaned closer to Draco lowering his voice to a stage-whisper. “Her parents are dentists, you know, they never let her have anything amazing like that when she was a child.”

Draco grinned. His eyes automatically followed George’s gaze and caught Hermione’s. They both looked away immediately, still aware of what had almost happened in the library.

George noticed the strange exchange. Something was going on here. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he’d find out - after dinner though. 

“All right, Malfoy, I know you usually have minions for that kind of thing, but would you lower your aristocratic self to the menial task of carrying the pheasant upstairs? Hermione, veggies and pudding. I’m bringing plates and cutlery.”


	5. Cauldrons and Confessions

Dinner was delicious. Draco was surprised that Hermione had not promised too much when she said George was an excellent cook. The man had worked magic on the pheasant. It tasted much better than anything the Malfoy house elves had ever come up with and Draco wondered whether there was any possibility he could get the remaining Weasley twin to cook for him on a regular basis. His thoughts ran away for a second and pictured George in the kitchen, wearing nothing but an apron. 

_ Merlin’s beard, Draco! If Hermione’s out of bonds, George is ten-fold out of bonds! He lost his brother to the Death Eaters. It’s a miracle he agreed to help you. And you should call yourself lucky he didn’t try to poison your food. _

He drew his eyes away from George, who was telling stories about Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and focussed on Hermione instead who had just started on her dessert. The look on the woman’s face was one of true bliss when she tried the sweet combination of pie and ice cream. Draco was happy about the dinner table keeping anything below his waist from view. He had no clue what was happening here, but it seemed like his body had decided to yearn for both George and Hermione at the same time. Well, Hermione wasn’t surprising, really. He’d left more than one office party early, because he had not been able to hide his appreciation of the witch. George though… He’d only met the guy a couple of times in the last few years and he had been quite civil - in comparison to Ronald Weasley who probably should have looked up the word “civil” in a dictionary and have someone explain it to him. He’d owled George about a tricky problem with a potion he needed for an invention a few weeks ago. They’d spent the afternoon at WWW’s development section, talking about potions and the upcoming Quidditch matches. It had been a great afternoon; Draco realized that ever since, George had been on his mind almost as much as Hermione. The man was incredibly clever. And he had a knack for potions that almost equalled Draco’s own talent for the subject. 

“So, I have this brand new prototype now,” George announced and pulled a couple of sweets out of his pocket. They were wrapped in yellow cellophane and looked like ordinary toffees. “Tell-the-truth toffees!” he said with a happy smile. “The thing any mother needed in her life! They have a tiny bit of veritaserum in them. Only works as long as the toffee needs to melt in your mouth, but the person who is eating the toffee won’t be able to tell a lie within that timespan. Ask the right questions and you’ll get answers you never wanted to hear!”

Hermione frowned.

“I am not exactly sure whether the legislation concerning veritaserum…”

“I checked, of course. That is, I had Angelina check it, because I couldn’t be arsed. But it’s fine. It’s the short timespan that makes it legal.”

“And you’re…”

“Going to sell them one at a time. No bulks. Because I am a very responsible adult.” George gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Much more than you give me credit for, honey.”

He grinned.

“But let’s talk about the task at hand now. Did you find anything in the library?”

Hermione took another spoon full of her dessert and hoped she wasn’t blushing again. Oh yes she had found something in the library. She had found that she actually had feelings for Draco Malfoy and it was disconcerting, because thinking back she’d been harbouring these feelings for quite a while and just not admitted it to herself. But she loved George! She loved him with all her heart! This was madness!

“We found quite a few spells and countercurses that we could try to work through and see if any of them or a combination of all of them works to bring the barriers down” Draco said, setting his empty dessert plate to the side and putting his notes onto the table.

“I had one volume which was quite promising because the outset for the curse was pretty much the same one, albeit the wizard being locked in had been a little too friendly with another witch and his wife had any right to be furious.”

George chuckled.

“So, you weren’t…?” he suggested.

Draco rolled his eyes at him.

“Seriously mate. This was Astoria. I knew I’d not survive if I’d ever tried it on with anyone else but her. She once gave me hell because she found out about something that happened in fifth year between Blaise and I. And I didn’t even really know her back then!”

George raised a brow at that confession but kept his composure. So something had happened between Draco and his best friend in school? That was new information. Interesting information. George checked his own thoughts and frowned. Why exactly did he deem this interesting? He shook his head a little to clear his mind and focus on their task.

“That sounds promising though. What did the furious betrayed witch come up with?”

Draco turned the parchment so both of his guests could read what he had scribbled down.

Hermione’s eyes flew over the first couple of lines and she nodded.

“That should be quite powerful, but not unbreakable. I found one spell that can counteract this part.” She pointed to the first bit of the curse. “And another one that might work with the last bit. We’ll have to improvise for the midsection, but it’s definitely a start.”

“Vapour of ghoul-blood though?” George said hesitatingly before he looked up at Draco. “As we are locked into your damn house, please tell me you are as weird as I think you are and actually keep ghoul-blood around just in case you need to distill it someday?”

Draco grinned.

“Man, I usually don’t brag, but if Snape’s ghost ever saw my ingredient storage room, he’d turn green with envy.”

“That means we’ll have to boil the bloody stuff overnight though” George noted. 

Hermione nodded. “And we can’t be sure it’ll work, but babysitting the kettle will give us enough time to come up with a plan B - or even several alternative plans.”

“All right” Draco said, waving his wand across the table so the dishes lifted off the table cloth and lined up to then fly in a neat procession back downstairs to the kitchen. “Take the wine and the notes with you, and follow me!”

He led them up another flight of stairs than the one that led to the library and stepped through a door halfway up that led onto a spiral staircase. As they climbed the stairs behind him, Hermione couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“You know, Draco Malfoy, in a way you are quite the cliché. A laboratory in a tower - that’s all over muggle stories.”

Draco shrugged.

“I just like to have a nice view when I work on stuff,” he said.

“Totally normal,” George said. “Weasley Wizard Wheezes development room is right under the roof as well. I can watch people in half of Diagon Alley from there. The couples at the ice cream parlour are quite delightful - the fighting ones, not the ones that are oh-so-much-in-love that is.”

They started sorting through the ingredients for the vapour and set up the apparatus to prepare it. Somehow, they didn’t need to talk much as they worked. As if they had never done anything else, each of them predicted the actions of the other two. There were no misunderstandings, and they finished the setup in less than half an hour. As Draco poured the ghoul-blood into the small copper kettle, and Hermione lit the fire underneath it, George added a last security screw on the reflux condenser. They stepped back as one, admiring their work. Draco pulled out a pocket watch and nodded.

“Six hours of distilling with stirring every now and then. This is going to be a long night.”

A few hours later, they had come up with plans B to F to get rid of Astoria’s spell. As there had been more Tocayer involved in the process, none of them felt quite capable of trying any of their ideas out immediately. They’d have to wait until the next morning. At some point, Bernard the tomcat had joined their meeting, obviously intent on being wherever the action was, and at some later point Hermione had fallen asleep in one of the arm chairs.

Draco had been stirring the ghoul-blood - a step that had to be repeated every half hour so the stuff did not turn into liquorice - and came back to the comfortable seating arrangement in front of the fireplace to find she’d curled up in her armchair like a cat.

“We should get her to bed,” he suggested to George, who’d been tending to another part of the distilling process. “This house is huge and has about a dozen guest bedrooms. She really doesn’t need to sleep in a chair. We can wake her later when one of us gets too tired to look after the damn potion.”

George nodded and picked his girlfriend up as if she weighed nothing. Draco had always thought of the man as rather lightweight, but his motions betrayed that he was stronger than he looked. He led the redhead down the staircase and into the closest bedroom. A huge four poster bed took up half of the high-ceilinged chamber.

“Wow. This is positively medieval!” George grinned with a look around, then lay Hermione on the bed. He pulled off her shoes, pullover, and trousers without a second of hesitation - and also without a single thought for the second man in the room - and then pulled the blanket over her. He placed a kiss on her forehead and stroked her brown curls.

“You’re the most beautiful witch on this planet and I love you,” he whispered in her ear before drawing back. Hermione didn’t wake up, but she smiled in her sleep.

Draco shuffled his feet in discomfort at witnessing such caring intimacy. These two were just perfect for each other. How did anyone find a person that cared so much about them? 

They returned to the tower and sank down onto the seats in front of the fire place again. There wasn’t anything to do besides of the regular check-ups on the vapour. Earlier, they had played a game of chess, and found they were quite evenly matched. But now it was late, and both George and Draco felt that the tiredness and the wine had lessened their brain’s capacities. So no chess.

George looked around the room. The walls were painted in a brown-orange tone and were covered with shelves full of neat book-piles and less neat collections of glassware. There was the open door to the storage room - the contents of which were every bit as impressive as Draco had implied earlier - and the seats in front of the fireplace which were old, ragged and incredibly comfortable. George assumed that this was Draco’s favourite room in the whole house, and he could totally understand why.

He said as much and the Slytherin shrugged.

“It’s less Malfoy-ish than any other place in the house,” he admitted. “But this whole aristocrat noble upper-class style is just the most uncomfortable style in the world. I mean, you lie on that white sofa downstairs. It’s like lying on a wooden bench. It doesn’t even budge an inch when you sit on it. It’s terrible!”

George laughed and took another sip from his glass.

“You know what?” he asked thoughtfully, eyeing the blond man over the rim. “You really are much less of an arrogant prick than I ever gave you credit for. I never understood why Hermione seemed to like hanging out with you at work, but I get it now.”

Draco sighed. “I’m really sorry for anything that… happened in the war. I mean… I still don’t know how Hermione manages not to hate me. How she manages to come here. And you of all people…. You’d also have any right to hate me.”

George shook his head.

“You didn’t kill my brother, Malfoy. And you were a child. We all were. We just all were forced to grow up that day.”

For a minute or two both of them stared into the flames. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just a sad one. When Draco shifted his gaze to look over at George he could see the pain on the man’s face, still as fresh as if it had been inflicted yesterday. Draco was an only child but he had always wished for siblings. How did it feel to lose your twin? How horrible must that be? How did one not lose their mind over such a loss? He wanted to walk over to George and hug him. He wanted to hold him until that pain vanished again. He wanted to...

“We should get more wine,” he said and stood up quickly.

More wine was probably a really bad idea, he thought on his way downstairs, but then on the other hand, no wine was also no solution to his current conundrum. When he came back, carrying two more bottles of Tocayer, George was lounging in one of the arm chairs and lazily floating two of the Tell-the-truth toffees in the air with his wand.

“Welcome back, Malfoy” he smiled. “Are you up for a game?”

Malfoy set the bottles down and looked at the redhead sceptically.

“Why does that sound suspicious?”

“Because it’s worse than truth or dare. It’s truth and only truth. With no option to lie.”

One of the toffees came floating over and hovered in front of Draco’s nose.

Later on, he’d remember that moment and wonder why he did not just decline. Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the fact that he was dead tired and knew this would keep him on his toes for a bit. Perhaps it was even the opportunity to have George under the influence of veritaserum for a couple of minutes. He grabbed the toffee and unwrapped it. 

“At the same time?” he enquired.

George nodded, unwrapping the other toffee.

“On three. One. Two. Three.”

They both shoved the sweets into their mouths.

Draco thought that Tell-the-truth-toffee didn’t taste half bad. He also thought George looked incredibly handsome the way he was half-lying in the armchair, jean-clad long legs thrown over one armrest, shirtsleeves rolled up over his elbows, hair slightly tousled.

“What are you thinking?” George asked. 

“I’m thinking that you are one of the most attractive men I have ever seen,” Draco answered and bit his tongue. All right, this had been a very bad idea, as it was very likely going to cost him his head.

George chuckled.

  
“Well thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. Malfoy. But I guess you know that.”

Draco picked up Bernard, who was meowing at his feet, demanding to be included in the conversation. 

“Do you really think that?” he asked over his shoulder.

“It’s dead-obvious to anyone with eyes, Draco. Well you’re not the tall dark and handsome type but you’re more the tall, blond and mysterious type and that’s also quite intriguing. I have to say, working as an auror and not acting the arrogant arse most of the time has definitely also worked in your favour.”

George took a sip of wine. 

  
“So. I am curious. What happened between you and Hermione earlier on? I’m not an idiot. Something happened, and you better tell me.”

Draco sighed and sank down onto the sofa, cat on his lap. George would hate him after this. Damn. he really didn’t want George to hate him. 

“We… we almost kissed. It was a weird situation and I don’t know. Nothing happened, really.”

“But…?”

“But I wish it had. Hermione… she’s incredible. You of all people should know that. She’s amazing, clever, beautiful.”

“Yeah. I happen to know that. She’s been my girlfriend for a while now. I didn’t know you liked her.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nothing has happened. You have the hots for my girlfriend. I don’t think I can punch you in the face for feelings that I can understand completely. If you had kissed her, that would be different.”

“I didn’t.”

Draco hesitated for a second, then he asked: “How did you two happen anyways? I mean, you and Hermione?”

George shrugged.

“Always liked her. I think ever since she slapped you in the face and called you a cockroach I was a goner.”

“Same here.”

“Never, Malfoy!”

“Thanks to your invention, I cannot speak a lie at the moment, Weasel.”

“But… you married Astoria.”

“Yes. And I snogged Blaise in the empty classrooms after hours during fifth year. We do a lot of things in our lives that aren’t really sensible.”

George almost spit out his toffee.

“You did what?”

Draco grinned in fond memory.

“Blaise and I were an item. For about eight months. It was brief and wild and crazy and I don’t regret a single minute of it. I’m going to kill you if Pansy ever finds out about it… if anyone finds out about it.”

George noticed his face was flushed and he hoped the firelight hid it a little. Merlin, the Tell-the-truth-toffee had been a very bad idea. Especially with the way things were going right now.

“Draco Malfoy swings both ways?”

Draco downed a full glass of wine in one go and set it back down on the table with a little too much force. The stem broke off. Without even thinking, George repaired it with a flick of his wand and refilled it right afterwards.

“Yes. And I am going to kill you if you make it public.”

George took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“So I wasn’t mistaken, was I?”

Draco frowned.

“Mistaken about what?”

George chuckled again, taking another sip of wine.

  
“You picked up the tomcat to hide your hard on” he said matter-of-factly. “Because you don’t only fancy my girlfriend. You also fancy me, don’t you?”

Draco wondered whether there was any possibility to avada kedavra yourself or whether the spell would notice that its caster was also its target and implode the wand or something like that.

Why had he agreed to play this stupid game? He’d be the Weasel’s laughing stock until the end of his days.

He covered his eyes with his hands. As if erecting a wall between himself and the world would save him from harm. But the world didn’t go away and his tongue still tasted like toffee and forced him to answer. He took a deep breath, then let his hands sink and turned towards George, unbalancing Bernard in the process. The cat jumped off his lap with a pissed off hiss and curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace instead.

“Yes, here you go, Weasel. I have had the fucking hots for you ever since you were dancing through your laboratory at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes bursting with enthusiasm and full of pride for all the new crazy things you had come up with. I’m completely confused right now because I have admired Hermione for ages and she never seemed to see me. Now she almost kissed me in the library. And at the same time, there’s you: Helping me even though you could have stayed home. As if you cared! When that troll hit you, I… I was fucking scared for your life. And then you were cooking amazing dinner and talking about these toffee-things with that incredible spark in your eyes that you always get when you’re truly excited about something.  Yes, I am stupidly attracted to you. And I am jealous: Jealous of what you and Hermione have and what I’ve never had and probably will never have. I know this is going to be another story for when the grandchildren are grown up and can stomach the story of how the biggest bully of Hogwarts fancied both grandma and grandpa at the same time and had to hide his erection under a cat. And that’s okay. Because I have no intentions to do anything about it. I am not going to try to get between the two of you. It hurts like hell to see how much you mean to each other. And hell, I’d give my right leg to change places with either of you just for a day, but I am not an asshole. If anything I’d try to preserve what you have with my life, because it’s so bloody rare and beautiful.”

Draco stopped talking. The toffee-taste had evaporated and only emptiness was left.

George stared at him, baffled. He re-filled his wine glass and downed it in one go, then stood up and sat down next to the blond man who had once again covered his eyes with his hands. He slowly reached out to peel the man’s hands away from his face, then guided his left hand down and to the left. Draco’s breath hitched when he felt the other man’s erection through the heavy jeans fabric.

“I’d be an idiot to laugh about you,” George said. “Because at least you already knew you liked both men and women. I’ve never felt this with a man before.”

Draco was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to put his thoughts in order. He gulped when George’s hand touched his knee, than moved upwards and inwards.

“Merlin,” George breathed. 

“We can’t do this,” Draco murmured. “Hermione…”   


George cursed under his breath. The other man was right. He couldn’t go there. He loved Hermione, loved her with all his heart. And he didn’t want to lose her. If he betrayed her like this, he’d never be able to look into her eyes again. 

“Mate”, he said, looking down at Draco, who was glassy eyed and bursting with desire, “I think we have a problem.”

Draco checked his watch and nodded. “Next stirring is due in five minutes. I’m going to wake Hermione and send her upstairs. She can take over my watch here.”

_ And she’s going to give you what you need and what I would love to give you as well. This is the way it’s supposed to be. This is the right thing to do.  _

He almost flew down the stairs and ran towards the guest room.


	6. Extreme Situations

Hermione was mumbling in her sleep and kicking at the sheets. 

“No… no please,” Draco heard her whimper.

She lifted her hands up, trying to defend herself against her invisible attackers. Then she screamed. It was the same scream Draco had heard over and over again in his own nightmares. He had only heard her scream like this once and he had been frozen in place, watching helplessly while his aunt tortured the girl.

Draco couldn’t stomach it any more. 

Hermione was thrashing around now. He managed to get a hold of her wrists.

“Hush, hush. Wake up, you’re dreaming. It’s a nightmare. It’s not real,” he murmured.

Her eyes flew open. For a second, she seemed to be still caught in her dreamworld, then she met his gaze and realized where she was and what had happened. She took in the look on her friend’s face, the sheer horror in his eyes.

“I… did I scream?” was all she asked.

Draco nodded wordlessly, then just pulled her into a hug.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry for everything that happened during the war and I am even more sorry for being a coward that day. I shouldn’t have let her hurt you.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and for a few minutes they sat in silence. Her breathing was calm now; her heart beating steadily against his chest. Her bushy hair was tingling his face and he could smell her signature scent of bergamot and green tea.

“You were a child, Draco. A scared child. We all were,” she said finally, shifting a little and swinging her legs over the bedside to get up. Her hand was still on his back as if she were reluctant to let go of him. “Don’t hate yourself for the things you did. It’s the past and it’s behind you.”

She leaned forward in a fluid motion and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, her lips only touching his skin for a split second.

“Thanks for waking me up.”

Draco nodded and gulped. For a few minutes, he had been able to push his upset feelings aside, but now they came rushing back with full force. The want was almost unbearable. But he knew the right thing to do, and even if it pained him, he’d do it. He had done the wrong thing often enough to know it never came without consequences.

“I was wondering if you would mind taking over my watch upstairs?” he said hoarsely. “I need a couple of minutes of shut-eye.”

_ And a cold shower. A very cold shower. _

Hermione nodded and got up. Scanning the room, she found her trousers and pullover neatly folded on the sideboard. She was about to pull the jeans on, when she registered Draco’s gaze. The man looked positively destroyed.

“What’s going on?” she asked calmly.

Draco’s reaction wasn’t quite what she had expected. Instead of an answer, he jumped up, balled his fists and rushed out of the room at a sprint. Hermione frowned. She quickly pulled her trousers on and followed him outside. There was no sign of where he had gone, but she was a witch and she’d never had any issues with performing tracking spells. Just when she had cast one that conjured up a little red light that would lead her to him, George came thundering down the stairs. He truly was one of the loudest people she knew. Even though he could move quite gracefully, he still managed to make an awful lot of noise while doing so.

“Hey honey.” He smiled when he saw her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I was wondering where you were. Seemed like ages ago that Malfoy went downstairs to wake you. I looked after the vapour and then I got bored. So I decided to check on you.”

He followed her gaze towards the red dot.

“Uhh. What is this about?”

“I had a nightmare. The usual one. Draco woke me. He was completely distraught over it and I told him, I don’t need his apology for what happened when we were kids. He couldn’t have done anything. There were at least half a dozen grown up Death Eaters in the room. They’d have overwhelmed him in no time. They might even have killed him as a traitor if he had done anything to help me. I know that. Everyone knows that - except for him, it seems. I told him he shouldn’t blame himself. And then he got all weird and ran off.”

George’s eyebrow went up quizzically. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“I got up to get dressed and he… oh.” Realization dawned on her face.

“Oh,” George nodded and sighed. “That man’s been in love with you pretty much forever, Hermione. And it looks like he’s determined to make himself miserable rather than do anything that might get us into trouble.”

Hermione frowned and turned her head. “Us?” she enquired.

George blushed and cursed under his breath.

_Well great. Freud would throw quite a party now._ _I should probably lie. Say that I just misspoke. Pretend… But it’s Hermione. She deserves the truth._

“You like Draco, don’t you?” he inquired.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second and then nodded. “But that has nothing to do with you,” she began to ramble. “I mean, us. I am so happy with you and I love you and I want to spend my life with you. Whatever happens when Draco is around is - unsettling, but not really a problem.”

“Well, I think it is.” George pushed her hair back and smiled a little sadly. “Because I have the same issue and  _ unsettling  _ is quite the right adjective to describe it. And even though I’m usually in control of my own doings, I almost let something happen in the laboratory earlier on. I have the most beautiful and amazing witch of all time at my side and I am the happiest man alive and yet, I don’t know what’s going on. It’s confusing. And it definitely is a problem for him, because he knows. And he tried to remove himself from the equation, because he’s scared as hell he’ll ruin what we have if he acts the way he wants to.”

Hermione stared at her boyfriend, letting the confession sink in slowly. “You… and Draco?”

George pulled a face. “If you tell this to my family, I might consider going all Slytherin on you and hiding your corpse in a remote cave in the highlands after your untimely death, honey.”

“But… but how?” Confusion was written all over her face. She remembered George’s words as he had lain on the white sofa. She had put that down to the blood-loss and semi-consciousness. But it had obviously been more than that.

“I have no idea, and yet…” George ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. He took a moment to carefully gather his thoughts. “He’s like you in a lot of aspects. I mean he’s clever and he’s ruthless. And I like his snarky comments and his impossibly posh accent and the way he does everything to impress you and you don’t even notice it. The ceiling in the kitchen? You don’t believe he did that because he loves house elves so much, do you? Nobody in the wizarding world thinks of them the way you do. That enchantment was intended for the sole purpose of you ever coming round to see it. He’s got a brilliant mind and he was great help at the shop. And on top of all of that he’s just impossibly handsome. But you know all of that - well except for the kitchen-ceiling-thing perhaps.”

They looked at each other for a long while. Hermione’s head was spinning. Yes, Draco had been on her mind a lot lately and he’d somehow managed to become more than just a friend to her. She suddenly realized all the small gestures around the office that had been meant to impress her and please her - and which had done the deed nicely. But adding George to the mix was a new challenge, a new perspective. She set her jaw when the conclusion appeared as a clear thought in her brain.

“Let’s go and look where he’s run off to,” she suggested. “Removing himself from the equation should be a bit difficult as we are all locked into this house.” 

George seemed surprised for a moment, before he nodded. As Hermione started walking, the red light in front of her also began to move and led the way through the labyrinth of corridors and staircases that was Malfoy Manor.

They finally found him in his bedroom, not the master bedroom that he slept in nowadays, but his old childhood bedroom, the place he’d probably always run off to, when discussions became heated between his parents.

The first thing that George and Hermione took in was the sheer size of the room. It was massive. But it was also the most depressing place George had ever seen. There was a stone fireplace, which was cold. The floor was covered in expensive plush grey carpet. The walls had some pictures on them - dark oil paintings in gilded gold frames that depicted some late members of the Black family. There was an oversized black wardrobe in one corner. An old oaken writing desk and an oversized leather office chair were positioned in front of one of the three tiny windows that hardly let any light in during the day. A king size bed looked out of place where it sat crammed into the corner opposite the wardrobe. The rest of the room was completely empty. There was nothing personal to show a child had ever inhabited this room. 

Draco was huddled against the headboard of the bed, legs pulled up, arms around his knees. He glanced up when the couple entered the room. At this moment, he looked to both of them like the most miserable man on this earth, the grown-up version of the lonely child that had lived here.

Hermione thought that if Harry had ever seen this place, he would probably have thought differently about his former enemy. The cupboard under the stairs might have been smaller, but this was equally sad.

She crossed the room in a stride and sat down on the bed in front of the blond man. George followed her and also took a seat. The expression on Draco’s face was one of total defeat.

“So, I guess you talked?”

Hermione nodded and reached out to take his hand.

“We did,” she said. “And we came to a conclusion.”

Draco gulped.

“We are in a weird situation here. But it could be much worse than it is,” she went on, reaching out her other hand to let her fingers run through George’s hair. 

Draco had once read a Muggle book about the way people acted in extreme situations. Very often, extreme situations such as surviving a natural catastrophe together, being stuck in an elevator for hours, or being one of the hostages in a bank robbery made people bond in different ways. Instincts became more imminent in these situations because evolution demanded you procreate before you die. The book concluded that people in an extreme situation had to be seen as not being in their right minds. 

Being stuck in Malfoy Manor probably counted as an extreme situation. Otherwise, he was sure Hermione Granger would never have suggested what he thought she was suggesting.

George came a little closer and placed his hand high on Draco’s thigh, then turned his head to kiss Hermione on the mouth.

“Screw it!” Draco thought. 

Even if this was an action born out of extreme situation madness, his restraint was at an end and there was no harm in it, except for the loss he’d feel once they both came to their senses again. Draco was used to being lonely, but just for this one night, he could have everything he ever wanted. He’d not let that opportunity pass, however bad the aftermath would be.

He leaned forward, and as soon as George's and Hermione's lips parted, his were on hers. This moment had featured prominently in Draco’s dreams for years. Well, not exactly like this, with George in the mix, but he had wanted to kiss Hermione for more than a decade. He'd imagined how she would taste, how it would feel. But reality was so much better than any dream. Damn. She definitely knew how to kiss. Her warm, soft lips parted slightly as she kissed him back, her hand on his neck, pulling him closer.  She traced his lips with her tongue and he happily granted her entry. The tip of her tongue brushed along his teeth, igniting pleasurable shudders.

When she pulled back to take a breath, he became aware of what George was doing. The man had somehow changed position and was now kneeling behind him, wrapping his arms around his chest, kissing his neck with quick fluttering kisses. His slender fingers started unbuttoning Draco's shirt, taking their time, lingering on every inch of exposed flesh for a few seconds before carrying on with their task.

“Do you like this, Malfoy?” George murmured in his ear and Draco shuddered again.

“Draco,” he whispered, “Call me by my first name!”

“Only if you do the same,” George retorted and shoved his hand down the half-unbuttoned shirt and into the waistband of his trousers. “Say: I like this, George!”

Draco moaned as Hermione kissed his exposed collarbone while George tried to open his belt with his other hand, inflicting more pressure.

“I like this, George,” he mumbled.

George chuckled again. He was still fumbling with the belt and at the same time running his other hand further down. Draco arched into George’s touch; a strangled sound escaped his throat. 

“How long has it been, Draco? You're positively starving for it, aren't you?”

Draco didn't reply. No need to confirm what was obvious.

Hermione grinned and shoved George's hands away, opening the belt with one expert move and unbuttoning and unzipping the trousers with the next one. She looked up to meet George's gaze.

“Why are you hiding behind Draco?” she asked teasingly.

George indicated Draco should move to the side to make room so he could shift closer to his girlfriend. When the Slytherin didn't follow suit quickly enough, he grabbed his bum and firmly shoved it to the right.

“Hey!” Draco mock-complained.

“Quite some muscle you've got going on there,” George noted, letting his eyes drift downwards.

Hermione turned to her boyfriend and kissed him fiercely, pausing George’s heated perusal of Draco’s assets. Draco watched as her hands clutched at George's shoulders while the man buried his hands in her hair, then let them wander down to her breasts, caressing them softly through her blouse

“Witch,” George mumbled as she pulled back.

“True.” Hermione grinned.

“ _ My _ witch,” George specified.

“Also true,” she nodded, then turned towards Draco. “But tonight you'll have to share.”

Hermione’s dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, and enticingly red lips made her look younger than she was.

“We'll all share,” George said and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor.

Draco stared at the muscular, yet narrow chest the man had exposed. It was fascinating to see that even though George was a red head, his chest hair was a dark brown.

While Draco was admiring George, Hermione had quickly slipped the last few shirt buttons through their buttonholes and pushed Draco's shirt off his shoulders as well.

George smiled. “Didn't know you shaved, Draco.”

“Some of us have class, George.”

“What does class have to do with chest hair?” George inquired while he pushed Hermione's t-shirt upwards and over her head, revealing a dark red lacy bra.

Hermione crawled even closer and ran her fingers down George's chest. Again, she demonstrated surprising dexterity, opening his fly in less than three seconds.

George sighed as she pushed down his trousers and pants. He kicked them all the way off together with his socks and let them meet the pile of clothes on the floor. Hermione's left hand settled on his balls, making small circling motions and he moaned, a noise that sent shivers down Draco's spine.

“Trousers off!” Hermione demanded, and he followed suit, almost falling off the bed as he tried to pull the same stunt as George. She chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his mouth, before letting her lips wander down to his neck.

Then her lips were gone, fluttering away like butterflies. Instead there suddenly was George, claiming his lips with ferocity, stroking his blond hair, his back, his upper arms. Where Hermione's kisses were all soft seduction, George's were all wildfire and desire. His lips were a little rough, but it didn't feel bad to kiss him. Not at all.

Hermione had never believed she could be turned on by two men kissing. She didn't mind men kissing, but she just never expected it to do anything for her. It had never caused a reaction when she had seen Seamus and Dean do it. It had just been another kissing couple. Nothing special. But watching the two men that were closest to her heart go for it at full throttle was arousing. Very much so. She let her fingers run down Draco's spine, feeling his vertebrae under the ivory skin. Her left hand was still playing with George's balls. She knew exactly how that man worked, knew which buttons to press to make him groan. He was an open book, albeit a book she loved to re-read over and over again. Draco though – Draco was a book she had never read before but was eager to turn each page in time, progressing slowly, finding out more and more about this man. She had the impression he was more fragile than George. She might have to go easy on him to make this night as good for him as she was sure it would be for George and her.

When the guys finally stopped for a breather she smiled at the blond man.

“Mind getting these jeans off me?” she asked him.

He blushed. Oh yes, they would need to be gentle with him. She leaned against George. His erection pressed into her back, turning her on even more. He was so ready. But he also liked to be teased. He knew it was worth the wait.

“Come on,” she told Draco. “Get them off me!”

Draco opened the button and fly with trembling hands, then pulled the trousers off her. She toed her socks off as well. Nothing was more ridiculous than a naked person in socks.

Draco's breath hitched when he took in her entire body. His hands went up to her bra, still trembling. He pushed down the straps as George unfastened the back. The red garment ended up in the gowing pile on the floor. George cupped her breasts with his hands and started squeezing them gently. She sighed and waited for Draco's next move. The man was incredibly hesitant. As if he still didn't believe that this was happening. Well, it was happening. He'd better realize that sooner than later. He was searching George's eyes, as if he was waiting for permission. She could feel George tense up for a moment, then nod.

Draco's fingers were slender and nimble – and he was overexcited and trembling as he slid his hands between her thighs, but that only made his touch more enticing. He was careful and much gentler than George. She had read him right in that respect. But he definitely knew what he was doing. Her breath hitched in her throat. Damn, he really knew what he was doing.

George was still caressing her breasts and now began to kiss her neck as well. Soft, but determined kisses. George-kisses.

Draco was still working his magic and her body reacted. Little moans escaped her throat in time with the shallow thrusts she couldn’t stop her hips from making. George's hands became firmer, his fingertips pinching her nipples. Draco quickened his pace and leaned in to first kiss George again, who had lifted his head off her neck for a second, and then meet her lips in one fluid motion. She realized she was a goner just a few seconds before it happened.

“Fuck!” she cried as her body convulsed.

George chuckled, tilted her head back and kissed her forehead.

“Is that an order?” he demanded.

She closed her eyes, unable to speak. Draco crawled up to sit next to George. They both hugged her until she was breathing normally again, touching her gently, while also touching each other. She smiled and opened her eyes to find herself looking right into Draco's grey orbs. Hunger and hesitancy played across his features as well as something more profound, something she had seen there before, but had not quite been able to place - adoration.

Hermione shifted her position to George's side and Draco grinned as he accepted the invitation. The next moment, the guys were snogging again. This time, it wasn't the least bit gentle. Pure, unfiltered instinct drove them forward and Hermione watched with interest as the constellation suddenly changed. She had expected George to have the upper hand in this, perhaps because he was larger and older, and she knew him to be a little rough around the edges.

But it was Draco who dictated the direction this was going. The man had clearly found his confidence now, and as George was the less experienced player when it came to man-to-man action, he allowed the younger guy lead in this dance.

George let Draco guide his hand until it touched his cock. It was weird to touch another man's genitals. Weird – but somehow arousing, because the man in question was Draco and he was clearly almost ready to burst.

“Do you know that you look incredibly sexy when you have that half-surprised look on your face, George?” Draco asked with a smirk.

His hands were fast and sure. No trembling was left now. He was getting more and more comfortable. As George was stroking his penis, Draco swirled his tongue around his nipples while – following Hermione's example – caressing the red head's balls. He noticed George's hesitation and guided his hand again, setting the pace and the pressure. He noticed the other man's breath quicken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione watching with fascination. Knowing that she was watching made this even hotter. He jerked his head, inviting her in. She would know how to work on George. And the Weasley twin wasn't far off the edge. Neither was Draco. But this was his dream night and he'd try to make it as long and amazing as possible.

Hermione understood Draco's gesture immediately. So she was back in play then. Changing her position again, lying on her belly, propped up onto her arms, she started gently rubbing her lips over George's tip. His moan assured her that this was just the thing he needed. Slowly, she followed his entire length with her tongue, two times, three times. George let go of Draco's cock and buried his hands in Hermione's hair. Closing her lips around his penis, she began to suck gently, then harder, finally working him with her teeth. It didn't take long until he tipped over the edge with a loud wordless groan and slumped over.

Hermione quickly turned to the side of the bed and spit out the come she'd gotten into her mouth. That bit was something she'd never get used to. She had no idea whether any woman really liked the taste of sperm, but she definitely wasn't one of them. She looked around in search for a glass of water, but found nothing of the sort. Instead, she found Draco's gaze, admiring her mouth in a more than interested way. Moving with rapt intent, he suddenly leaned over and went for a kiss. His tongue seemed to explore every inch of her mouth until he pulled back and swallowed.

“Better now?” he asked with a grin. She just stared at him. Had he really just? How incredible was this guy?

“Yeah,” she mumbled breathlessly.

He slid over so he was lying next to her, face to face, his whole body pressed against her. She could feel his arousal on her hip.

George slid into position behind her, throwing one arm around her midriff and pulling her close, as Draco slowly moved his tip up and down her labia until he finally guided it in.

She gasped when he entered her and felt George's hold tighten. For a split second she wondered how her boyfriend could stomach having Draco shag her. The fact that his cock was already hardening against her back again made her believe he wasn't upset about it. She clutched his butt with one of her hands and pulled him closer to her, making sure he felt every single movement as Draco worked his way into her.

“Hermione,” the Slytherin whispered as if he still wasn't entirely sure she was really here.

“Draco,” she answered and kissed him gently.

Draco didn't know how long it took. It probably felt longer than it was. But heaven was a place on earth inhabited by Hermione and George, and just for a while he was allowed to dwell in it. As they lay in his old childhood bed, the sheets a mess, clothes on the floor and all of them stark naked, he felt like this might be the start or the end of something. He just wasn't sure which of the two it was. Hermione lay between him and George, who both had their arms wrapped around her, and for the first time, Draco felt like his old room wasn't an entirely unhappy place. Right before he drifted off into sleep, following the example of his two guests, he thought that he might have forgotten something. But it wasn't important enough to keep him awake right now. He was sure it would come to him in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't write smut but the scene in chapter 5 was stuck in my head for two days and demanded to be written and it was just natural progression from there. I was super insecure about it. My lovely beta I_was_BOTWP was so kind to read it and give me the confidence to post this. Thank you so much <3


	7. Finite Incantatem?

“I love you,” Hermione said softly in Draco’s ear, shifting her body closer to his. From her toes to her chest, every inch of her skin pressed against him. She was warm and soft, she was perfect, and she was his. Leaning her forehead against his, she closed her eyes; her facial expression becoming one of pure relaxation. 

The scene rippled like the reflection in a lake after someone threw a rock into the water. A different, but well-known scene revealed itself to Darco as the ripples spread. He had revisited it countless times in his dreams. He was in Malfoy Manor again. In the old Malfoy Manor, the way it had been when the Death Eaters had used it as headquarters: bleak, dark and cold despite all the fireplaces being lit. The place reflected the mindset of its current inhabitants quite well, as it was full of wizards and witches who enjoyed inflicting pain - physical or psychological. The visitors residing in the Manor during that time deemed themselves superior because of their pure blood. Most of them were wealthy or influential, the heirs of old families. They bowed only to one man - a leader who could be cruel in one moment and fatherly in the next, who knew how to deal out the exact right amount of sugar so he could then whip them into obedience with his sharp tongue, his ready wit and his quick wand. 

Bellatrix was Voldemort’s puppet through and through. She adored him to an extent that bordered on obsession. And she did anything to please him, unscrupulous and uncaring; the years in Azkaban had stolen any remnants of her empathy yet all her magical skills were still intact. She was a useful and powerful tool in the hands of the Dark Lord.

On the stone floor, the surface shiny from the many feet that had walked over it throughout the centuries, Hermione writhed, as the black haired witch knelt over her, wand raised. Hermione screamed in agony, then whimpered. It took everything Draco had to stand watching; he clenched his fists behind his back so nobody would notice. He wanted to help, he wanted to run over to his aunt, pull her away from the girl and wrestle her to the ground. But she’d jinx him before he’d even reach her. And she’d not even blink to cast a cruciatus curse at him. Family didn’t count for much in Bellatrix’ eyes any more. She was all about the Death Eater’s cause and she’d not hesitate a second to even murder her sister if Voldemort demanded it.

Hermione screamed again, a long, wailing, agonizing sound and Draco’s eyes flew open. For a few seconds, his orientation was all haywire. Then the memory came back. They were in Malfoy Manor. The war had ended ten years ago.  And he had had sex with Hermione Granger and George Weasley, who were both still in his childhood bed, sound asleep. The witch was snuggled up to George, her head resting on the other man’s shoulder, but she was clutching Draco’s wrist in her sleep as if to make sure he didn’t wander off on his own. George’s right arm was extended at a right angle and had not only provided a cushion for his girlfriend but also for Draco, who quietly checked if he had drooled onto the red head’s hand in his sleep - he hadn’t. 

As usual, his nightmare had gone unnoticed. He had once asked Astoria whether he thrashed around in his sleep or screamed or tried to run. She had answered that no, he always lay calm and quiet, if anything he went rigid in his sleep, but she’d only noticed that once. Sighing, Draco turned his head, trying to make out how light it was outside. Just when he did that, a thought crossed his mind which had him jump out of bed in one fluid motion and utter a not-so-mild curse under his breath. Bernard, who had also joined the cosy sleepover, was kicked down onto the floor from where he had lain curled up on Draco’s legs, and meowed unamused before vanishing under the bed to sulk.

His owner didn’t even bother with clothes, but ran out of the room, banging the door in his hurry and waking his guests. While George needed a few moments to orient himself, Hermione’s first thought when opening her eyes was, “ _ Oh damn - the vapour _ .” 

She exclaimed that thought aloud, and in the next moment, both her and George were following Draco up the stairs to the laboratory taking two steps at a time.

They needn’t have hurried. It was too late.

All that remained of what had once been Draco’s favourite room in the house were smouldering remnants. The whole apparatus had been blown apart, as had been most of the furniture and even part of one wall along with bits of the roof. Draco stared incredulously up at a gaping hole through which they could see the night sky and the small line above the horizon that indicated that dawn wasn’t far away.

“Goodness!” Hermione stated. “That must have made some noise. Why didn’t we wake up from that?”

George looked down at the cat who had decided there would be more time to sulk later and followed the commotion.

“Why didn’t  _ you _ wake up from that?” he enquired. 

Waking up from a major explosion was below his dignity, Bernard implied when he responded to George’s attention by twining around his ankles and then went over to what had once been the desk, sniffing at the swirls of smoke the wood still emitted.

Draco didn’t say anything. He just stared at the mess, his shoulders sagged. The defeated look  on his face propelled George into action.

  
“Damn,” the redhead  said calmly, and stepped up to Draco, putting an arm around his shoulders. “That was a brilliant and well stocked lab. It will take a while to get it up to scratch again.”

He smiled reassuringly and patted the Slytherin’s back.

“Know what? Feel free to come round to my lab in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whenever you feel like it. I could use someone to bounce ideas off, preferably somebody with some skill in potion making. Nothing against Angelina, she’s brilliant at charms and transfiguration, but she’s a lost cause in potions.”

Draco looked at him with a weird expression.

“You… are you being serious.”

“Hell yeah. Of course I am.”

A smile played across Hermione’s face as she witnessed the exchange. Who would have thought? A Weasley and a Malfoy, bonding over potions. She felt proud of George for coming up with this brilliant offer. Charred bits of mouldering parchment fluttered down from the scorched black table. It seemed to be easier for Draco to watch them and the fumes that escaped from where the storage room had been, than to maintain eye contact with George. Hermione suppressed a sigh. Accepting kindness definitely wasn’t Draco’s strong suit. 

“We might have a problem though.” George carried on. “As the vapour has vapourized itself and taken pretty much all of your stock with it… we probably won’t be able to get out of here. Unless...” He walked over to the opening in the wall and reached out with his hand. Then he shook his head. “There’s a solid barrier. The explosion didn’t rattle the spell that keeps us locked in here.”

For a few minutes the three naked human beings and a very confused cat stood in silence. Then, Hermione turned on the spot, a determined look on her face.

“Well, we won’t get out of here with magic,” she said. “But I believe I have another idea that might work. You managed to get a floo-call through to us, which means the floo network isn’t entirely compromised. Which fireplace did you use? The one in the drawing room?”

Draco nodded, not understanding what she was implying. “That was the only one that worked at all.”

A mischievous grin graced Hermione’s lips  as she started walking down the stairs without a further word.

Draco and George exchanged a glance.

“What is she going to do?” Draco asked sheepishly.

George smiled. “I would think from how her face looked right then, that she’s going to get us the hell out of here with the wit and wisdom of the brightest witch of our age - and the not-so-very-magical tools of a woman.”

Draco frowned.

“Is she going to wiggle her breasts in front of the fireplace until the floo works again?” he suggested jokingly.

Grinning, George began to descend the stairs behind his girlfriend. 

  
“Mate, that’s a bloody fine pair of breasts, so if anyone ever repaired their floo that way, it would be hardly surprising if it were her. And in that case, I want to be there and watch.“

When they entered the drawing room, although not wiggling her breasts, Hermione was happily dancing around in front of the fireplace. She had obviously thrown some floo powder into the flames, but instead of turning the usual green colour, the fire had turned a weird shade of violet.

  
“I knew it!” Hermione announced triumphantly turning towards her friends. “Did the fire look like that when you contacted us yesterday, Draco?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t think it would work, because it had that weird colour, but somehow it did.”

“It works,” she explained, her grin widening, “because Astoria is a nosy person and she wanted to keep track of what you are doing. This is what a fire looks like when you use an eavesdropping charm on it without making an effort to conceal it. I guess Astoria has never done this before; it’s forbidden to use one, unless you are working on ministry orders, and she probably never saw the need before.”   
  


“This means…?” Draco began.

“This means your ex-wife assuredly knows that George and I are here trying to help you out of this mess. She doesn’t know anything beyond that though. And I plan to expand her knowledge right now.”

She stuck her head into the fire and shouted, “The Warren.” The fire flared up a little and next thing, she could see the well-known living room of Harry’s and Ginny’s home. It could easily be identified as the space inhabited by two Quidditch-crazy maniacs by the two nw and stupidly expensive broomsticks leaning against the sofa and the protective gear that was strewn all over the floor. Hermione rolled her eyes. Her friends still hadn’t become more creative at foreplay.

“Ginny?” she shouted.

Steps drew near from the kitchen, a pair of sock clad feet sticking out from an old pair of blue jeans walked over and the red haired girl knelt down in front of the fireplace.

“Hey Hermione,” she smiled. “How are you?”

Hermione returned her friend’s smile. “I am fine. I am more than fine. I am fabulous, to be exact. Listen, Ginny. I need you to feed the cats for a couple of days. We didn’t really plan this properly beforehand, but George and I have gone on a bit of a holiday and… well, you know, there’s a castle and a huge bed and somehow we both really can’t be bothered to leave right now.”

She winked theatrically.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Merlin. You’re worse than Neville and Luna. Spare me the details. I’ll check on the toms later. Anything else?”   


Hermione giggled. Luna and Neville were basically exhibisitionists - it would be nigh impossible to be worse than them.

“I don’t think so” she replied after taking a moment to allow Ginny to believe she was contemplating her answer. “I should have everything with me. You know… all the important things, charms, equipment…”

Ginny did a pretty convincing impression of throwing up onto the carpet. “Stop! Right! Now! George’s my brother. I don’t want to imagine any of the stuff you are doing. So just… get on with it and have fun and  _ spare me any details _ .”

Hermione thanked her again and pulled out of the fireplace. The flames turned back to their normal colour almost immediately.

Both George and Draco looked at her in astonishment.

“I didn’t know how much evil energy you had, woman” Draco noted. “That was impressive. Are you sure that you aren’t actually a Slytherin?”

Hermione shrugged. “It was hardly a lie, was it? This is basically a castle, there’s a bed - well, more than one bed, George is here with me, and the last time I checked all of us had fun last night. I just accidentally forgot to mention that you, Draco, were part of the package, but I bet your ex will be able to do the maths on that one.”

Her grin turned predatory as she slowly walked towards the two men, swaying her hips. They were still all naked, and both Draco’s and George’s eyes followed her every move, their interest visibly sparked. 

“I give Astoria about twenty minutes to show up here foaming at the mouth” Hermione stated, grabbing their wrists and pulling them over to the white couch. “Let’s make that twenty minutes of time well spent.”

It took Astoria exactly 18 minutes and 47 seconds to make her way to Malfoy Manor and come bursting through the massive double doors. Theo was on her tail, and looked very much like a lost puppy. Both of them stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the three people lounging on the plush rug next to the sofa:  George, Hermione, and Draco were, of course, still stark naked. All three of them looked exceptionally content, and not one of them seemed to be the least bit surprised by the appearance of a 5 foot 5 woman in high heels, pencil skirt, and way too much makeup, and her new boy toy. Hermione sat between George’s spread legs, her back pressed to his chest, and Draco waved at Astoria lazily from where he was lying with his head bedded comfortably in Hermione’s lap.

“Hey Darling! How are you?” he asked, his lips curving into a half smirk.

Astoria’s mouth gaped, and it took her a few attempts to get a sentence out through her opening and closing jaw. “Draco Malfoy! What the hell is going on here?”

Draco looked at her, then glanced upwards to take in George’s hands that were caressing Hermione’s breasts while the woman was stroking Draco’s hair.

“I think it’s perfectly obvious,” the blond man stated, his smirk growing. “And unless Theo’s love making turned you all gooey and stupid, I assume the question is rhetorical. But let me ask you one in return: Are you aware of the fact that you just walked into my house?”

Astoria frowned.“Yes I am bloody well aware of that, you unfathomable idiot! I had your floo wired, so I could pick up what the mudblood was saying to the Weaslette.” Astoria’s voice began to rise in volume as she got going. “I couldn’t believe what I thought I heard and I decided, I should check whether it’s really true that my husband is cheating on me.”

Draco shook his head.

“Pot… Kettle…” George muttered from behind him and blew Theo - who was looking pretty sick - a kiss.

“And I come here to find you… not only messing around with a mudblood, but also with a man…” Astoria’s face was pink, and she punctuated her speech with wildly gesticulating hands. “I never thought you were such a jerk.”

“Well, now you know,” he said calmly. “Are you done shouting yet?”

Astoria looked like she wouldn’t be done shouting for a very long time. One of the blood vessels on her neck was pulsing wildly and her face had turned an unhealthy burgundy colour. 

“How dare you cheat on me with these low-life creatures?” she hissed. “How dare you betray our heritage like that?”

Draco and Hermione yawned in unison.

“I don’t know if you are up to date on the whole matter, Astoria, but in case you didn’t know: That whole pure-blood thing is so nineties,” Hermione said with a sweet voice. “Now, would you mind just getting that enchantment off the house, so George and I can go home and shower? I’m a bit tired of you already and I get very annoyed when I am tired.”

“She does,” George chimed in. “You don’t want to experience that. Now when there’s a wand in her reach.”

Astoria’s eyes flickered towards were three wands were lying on the carpet in a neat row. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“I am not going to lift the enchantment! What makes you think I would do such a thing? I put it on the house to make Draco suffer. I didn’t expect he’d call his favourite mudblood-whore and her boyfriend in for distraction, but…”

Draco had finally stood up and adopted a posture that looked intimidating even without him wearing any clothes. George couldn’t help it. He was impressed. Not many men would have been able to pull that off.   


“Darling. You are going to lift that charm. Unless you and Theo want to join our merry gathering, you will actually have to do so.”   


She stared at him, then it dawned on her and her furious gaze turned panicky.

“Damn,” she murmured. “I am  _ in the house _ .”

“You are in the house,” he agreed with a nod, “and you made sure that the house lets people in but doesn’t let anyone out, so you are stuck with Hermione, George, and me for the rest of eternity - or until we run out of food and have to resort to cannibalism… in which case we will eat Theo first, because he has betrayed the manly code of conduct that clearly puts ‘bros before hos” and have you as second serving.”

He made a grand gesture encompassing the whole house.

“You can live as the queen of this castle, shut away from the world. Or you can just break the damn spell, end this whole crappy act of jealousy, accept the fact that you already got paid off by me not pursuing you on behalf of house elf theft, and get your little, dull Slytherin-bum and my former best friend Theo out of my sight RIGHT NOW!” Unlike Astoria, Draco had remained deathly calm while he spoke. The last two words of his obvious threat were punctuated by a lowering of his voice and the manner in which he drew them out. 

Astoria’s decision fell in less than a second. The trio summoned clothing to themselves, not wanting to let the witch out of their sight. The reversal of the spell took the whole morning. The witch had resorted to quite a few of the books Draco and Hermione had paged through in the library and come up with an elaborate jinx that had three layers in total which needed to be removed one after the other. When she finally pushed the doors open, the pencil skirt was rumpled and her hair had escaped the neat bun on the back of her head. She looked positively destroyed. Draco took a mental image so he could conjure it back up in moments of sadness, when he needed a happy memory.

“See you in court!” she spit out, before she stalked down the front walk, dragging Theo with her. He just waved until they had disapparated at the front gates.

“Merlin. She’s a piece of work, that one,” George noted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Does she have any redeeming qualities or do I have to put you down as a complete imbecile for marrying her in the first place?”

Draco laughed.“Oh she’s utterly nuts. But she’s also ruthless, honest, clever, and she has some other hidden talents. I’m not sad to see her go, though, I have to admit that.”

Hermione appeared next to them, checking her handbag to make sure she had not forgotten anything.

“Okay,” she said. “As we are free again, I guess George and I will leave you to your own devices now.”   


“See you at work” he said, looking like he wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what. 

“See you,” she confirmed, biting her bottom lip.

Awkwardly, both of them stared at the floor. Draco balled his fists in his pockets, Hermione checked her handbag yet again.

George rolled his eyes.

“You are kind of cute, but also kind of a pain in the ass, you two,” he sighed, then he turned to Draco and pulled him into a hug. He took a step back, but didn’t let go of Draco’s shoulders, holding him in place, staring him in the eyes.

“I expect you to come visit me at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, mate. My lab is your lab, until yours is restored to its former glory. After that, I insist on us having a weekly gathering in your tower in the company of Bernard and some excellent whisky. And Hermione’s being shy, so I’m just going to invite you to dinner next Friday. Her place. Seven pm. Don’t dare to be late,” he warned Draco in a stern voice. “I’m cooking. Doors will open both ways and there will be no furious beastly creatures unless you count the cats, and they’re fine as soon as you pet them. They also don’t drink wine, so there will be plenty for us.”

With that, he suddenly pulled the Slytherin towards him and placed a firm kiss on his lips. Laughing at the surprised look on Draco’s face, he turned to wander down the walkway.

Hermione was still standing on the doorstep, shifting from foot to foot.

“Well,” she said.

Draco smiled.

“Well,” he responded.

“Dinner next Friday, then.”

“Can’t wait.”

They both were silent for a second.

“So… what happened last night and this morning...” Draco started. 

“... was kind of weird, wasn’t it?” Hermione finished his sentence.

“Yeah… but also… Hermione, I know this is strange and unexpected and we kind of stumbled into this because we were in this extreme situation but…”

She put her finger on his lips, silencing him.

“I love you, too, Draco” she said calmly, and then pressed a kiss on his lips as well, before following George down the path towards the gate. 

The couple waved once more, then they apparated. Draco stood in the doorway, wondering what had happened and where this would lead. Suddenly he shook his head. Wherever it would lead, it felt quite good right now. And he was excited to see both of his lovers again on Friday night.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the kudos in the world go to my beta I_was_BOTWP, who read this last chapter in its raw state and helped me to improve it so much. Also thanks for beta-ing my first-ever smut and also already volunteering for the spin-off.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this piece. I know Geodramione isn't the most popular pairing, but I just love both the twins and Draco too much not to wish for Hermione (who is like my spirit animal) to have both of them at once. If you enjoyed it, let me know! Comments are for authors what flowers are for bees.
> 
> The podfic will happen in full at some point. The spin-off (or possibly more than one spin-off) one-shot will also happen (possibly before the podfic because I have a beta-reader-approved plunny and it demands to be written).


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